The Message
by Kondoru
Summary: Zoltar is going on religious pilgrimmage no, actualy, he's skiving off.


GODS FINAL MESSAGE TO HIS CREATION By Kondoru

(With Apologies to the memory of Douglas Adams, one of my favourite SF writers.)

(Also to Roger Zelanzy...)

Standard Disclaimers

Thanks to JP for betaing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spectra is probably the most holy planet of all. It is the home of the Eternal Spirit Himself, the Luminous One (and other titles too many to list.) and as such is the focus of the Empire. Though not populous, Spectra is a hotbed of theology. Fully one sixth of the population is a member of a religious order. 

There are many religions on Spectra; The dominant is of course the worship of the Luminous One, but others are tolerated as long as they are tolerant in turn. Many people are members of more than one faith anyway. Some are monotheistic (God the unknowable) others polytheistic and still others simple animist. There is worship of Chosen, both as a group and individual ones. (And of course a massive personality cult devoted to You know who)  
------------------------------------------------------------------

Djeran was a semi famous theologian. He lectured at a few universities, though was not permanently employed by any. Mostly he just travelled round and wrote books about the state of religion on various planets of the Empire. He knew many offbeat things and had a wry wit.

One day he had a cryptic message from a person who signed themselves The Seeker After Enlightenment Meaningless, but followed by a seal of the Luminous Ones temple. Djeran would have to take this odd note seriously.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

This temple was dedicated to the mother of a Chosen of a few hundred years back. It was by no means an important place, though the architecture merited a paragraph in the guidebooks. Djeran had been directed to the place. He entered the ornate gates. Inside it was a little noisy, but by no means as loud as a big temple on holy days.

The courtyard was square, paved with simple sandstone tiles; it had a matching fountain in its centre, a few people sitting on the edge. The main door was in front of Djeran. A common layout for one of the temples of the Great Spirit, but by no means the only. On the two side walls were ranged ranks of Pray-o-matic(TM) machines. It was from these that all the noise was coming from. This was where most of the people were, too. Pray-o-mats(TM) were the popular way to pray. They were upright machines, with coloured lights on the front. Using them was simple; the petitioner put a coin in the slot on the side and pulled a lever on the opposite side. Bells would ring, coloured lights flash and on the console dials would whirl displaying the fruits of Paradise. If the pious got three matching fruit in a row, they would be awarded with something, on these simple machines it was cash, sometimes the takings for the day. More sophisticated computerised devices such as were found in the bigger temples printed out indulgences, coupons for jewels and consumer durables, sometimes even passes to Pleasuredomes.

Djeran stopped to watch the people praying on the machines. He was in no hurry.

The woman next to him turned to Djeran. She gestured at the unresponding back of the man in front, who was vigorously pulling away at the handle. "He's been praying for the last hour. Doesn't he realise that there are others here who want to pray too?"

Djeran shook his head. "You could always do it the old fashioned way." He told her.

"Ah, but I like praying by Pray-o-mat(TM), Manual praying is for monks and layabouts."

Djeran had to admit that kitschy though it was it was both an effective and modern way of praying. That and getting revenue for the temples. Pray-o-mats(TM) were big business. Not every temple could get hold of the limited number of machines built by the Luminati. But those that could were ensured of any pious visitors. That and much revenue.

On a bench next to the machines sat a woman, she was a temple prostitute, a common sight in the older buildings, though in the most modern temples their place was often taken by sophisticated teledildonics equipment. Why feed and house an idle girl when a machine could do the same work?

It was only appropriate that the two oldest professions should stick together. The Galaxy Girl was obviously Djeran's contact and so he walked over to her. She was wearing the satin blue robe of the group, the assassin's face was covered with the scars and tattoos of one of the elite group's secret cults of fanatics, those who succeeded in their missions or died in the attempt.

"Good morning Madame." Djeran bowed slightly.

Her scarred face twisted into a smile. The zealot opened her robe, revealing a tough feminine body in a red silk bikini. "Interested?" She asked by way of reply.

"If you are." Djeran gave the tradition bound answer.

The woman was up in one fluid movement. She led Djeran in out of the sun and noise.

Inside in his contacts room Djeran sat down upon the bed.

"Do you care for a drink?" The girl asked.

"So you're not?"

"Oh, no, dear Djeran, I am a bit more specialised than you think. You probably would not like me. Not at all." She took off her robe, and then her bikini top; underneath her chest was suspiciously masculine.  
"Oh," was all Djeran had to say, ever so slightly disappointed.

The spy hoiked some clothing out from under the bed, stepping into a pair of grey jogging suit bottoms. He filled the basin with water and washed off the makeup. Pulling a jersey over his head he sat back down next to a silent Djeran.

He looked at him, not that he could see much of the mans face, the upper part being concealed under the jerseys hood. What kind of man would dare to disguise himself as a Galaxy girl cultist? What kind of man had the body to be able to do this? Djeran suddenly knew. "My apologies, Lord Zoltar."

Zoltar laughed at his kinked deception. "Do not worry. I will send out for some girls if you really want it." Zoltar smiled, "Also food. Perhaps some slightly alcoholic beverages?" 

Djeran looked doubtful.

"On the House!"

"I really must be going." Djeran was uneasy. What game was Zoltar playing? It was clear the Chosen was playing some sort of game. Otherwise he would not have put on such an unexpected disguise.  
"It is not that. I want to know something about religion."

Djeran had to laugh, "you, of all people, ask me about religion? That's the funniest thing I have heard in years!"

"It might be to you. I am a mostly self-taught scholar, not a theological expert, like you."

"Can't you ask the Luminous One?"

It was Zoltar's turn to laugh. "There are things I cannot ask him. And before you ask me, I cannot go in the Great Library of Light either."

"You cant?" The Great Library was reputed to be the depository of the total sum of human knowledge, rumour claimed it contained the knowledge of alien races as well. Including the Great Spirit.

"I can, but the Luminati keep as close eye on the archives; it is not always possible to initiate an index search."

The entire library was on computer record, of course, but only the Mighty One and on rare occasions his chief archivist could see them. For most people it meant a computer index search which would direct them to a book on the shelf. After that they were on their own. Zoltar was well aware that his Master kept an eye upon his reading. He also had an idea that his current query was the sort of matter that the Great Spirit might not like.

"So just what is it that you want me to tell you?"

"I want to know where to find Gods final message to His creation."

Djeran drew in his breath. This was not a request to be taken lightly.

"So you do not know where it is? I thought a man of your immense scholarly abilities would."

Djeran scratched his head. "As a matter of fact I am uncertain of its exact location, but I could get you pretty close."

"After that I would be on my own?" Replied Zoltar archly

"Yes, that's how it would be."

"Just how close?"

"A few systems."

"Close enough for me."

"As long as it is." And he told Zoltar.

"Thank you." This was better than Zoltar had expected. His contact had told him that if anyone on Spectra knew, it would be Djeran...Or the Great Light of Wisdom. "What do you want by way of reward? A big bag of Pray-o-mat(TM) tokens?"

Djeran shook his head. "Thank you anyway."

Zoltar snorted, "a fool's way to paradise, the only way to success is though hard work and diligence."

"I quite agree." Djeran replied.

------------

When the Theologician got back to his lodging he found an envelope containing a big sheaf of Pleasuredome passes on the doormat.

-----------------

About a week later the Luminous One chanced to call his Chosen over some petty matter. His normal method of making immediate contact was to phone or page him; same as a mortal would. The mobile and pager were both on, but there was no reply. Most odd. Most unprecedented too.

The Spirit was understandably annoyed. This was not on. He attempted to make mental contact, -something reserved for emergencies only. He could not find Zoltar.

The Mighty one was perplexed. His first thought was the most obvious, that Zoltar was dead. If this were so, surely someone would have informed him of his Chosen's melancholy condition? On second thoughts it did not seem Zoltar was dead. The Great One got the vague impression that he was a long way away.

There was only one thing to do. The Spirit called for Mala, Spectra's resident atheist, instead.

Mala wore her usual expression; a sneer mixed with distaste at having to talk to a pesky alien. She stood at the far end of the Luminous Ones Ante room, tapping one foot on the floor. No subservience from Mala Latrois, -Oh no!

Since she said nothing the Great One asked her. "HAVE YOU SEEN ZOLTAR?"

Mala frowned, "not for a few days, no."

"DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW WHERE HE HAS GONE?"

"Don't you know?" Her voice was full of scorn.

"I DO NOT." He had to admit.

"You know my evasive little brother. Today Spectra, tomorrow Earth, next week the centre of the galaxy. If he doesn't want to be found then he won't be found."

"YOU ARE RIGHT." Conceded the Might Spirit wearily.

"If you can't find Zoltar then I certainly stand no chance."

"I WAS JUST WONDERING IF YOU KNEW." The Spirit was beaten for once.

Mala turned on her heel and departed.

"IF YOU HEAR FROM YOUR BROTHER TELL HIM I WANT TO SEE HIM AT ONCE" He called after her.

Mala did not reply.

------------------------------------------------------------

After an absence of nearly three months; Zoltar returned.

As soon as the Great Spirit heard of this He summoned him of course.

"RIGHT AWAY."

"Give me a chance to put my uniform on, Master!"

"I SAID RIGHT AWAY!"

So Zoltar turned up in the Chamber of the Eye of Enlightenment in his scruffy travelling clothing. He didn't even have the opportunity to grab a robe off of one of the Temple functionaries.

"I WANT TO HEAR A FULL ACCOUNT OF ALL YOUR ADVENTURES AND YOU HAD BETTER MAKE IT GOOD!" Snapped the Great One angrily. Zoltar going AWOL like this was not on.

And so Zoltar told him. It took him until the small hours, but the Great One was fascinated by the story and did not stop Zoltar.

---------------------------------------------------

It was actually quite easy to get to The Message, as it was always called. It was a big tourist attraction in that part of the galaxy.

Zoltar started asking about the location of The Message as soon as he made planetfall.

He was pointed to the nearest travel agents.

After negotiating a well-trod path and many souvenir booths, Zoltar got to his destination.

It was an oval with a line on the end and a dot in the middle.

The Chosen One was puzzled.

What did it mean?

-----------------------------------------

At the end of this Zoltar yawned. His bottom was numb from sitting on the hard floor of the Great Ones chamber; he was propped up against one of the computer banks.

"What do you think it means, Master?" He said after a pause signifying his account was over. "There are libraries written by the galaxies greatest theologians on the subject. -They all disagree."

"I WILL THINK ON THE MATTER" His fiery master told him.

He hung his head. "I suppose you are going to hit me now, Master?" Zoltar said wearily The Luminous Ones eyes narrowed in a dangerous fashion. His Chosen shuddered; he was far too exhausted to dodge, this time the Spirits ray would hit him directly. No doubt it would be on as high as he could take without being killed.

"NO, ZOLTAR, NOT THIS TIME."

Zoltar was quite taken aback. "You are not going to punish me?"

"I AM GOING TO PUNISH YOU, AND IT WILL TAKE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE."

His Chosen whimpered.

"I DO KNOW WHAT THE MESSAGE MEANS". If the Mighty One had been possessed of lips he would have grinned feraly. "BUT I AM NOT GOING TO SHARE THAT INFORMATION WITH YOU. YOU ARE SO OBVIOUSLY UNWORTHY."

"No?"

"CHOSEN YOU MAY BE, BUT AT TIMES YOU CAN ACT LIKE THE LOWEST OF THE LOW. BEGONE!"

Zoltar bowed his head, and struggling to his numb feet, left with a sigh of obvious relief.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

After Zoltar had staggered out of the Great Ones chamber, the Spirit switched off his screen and powered down his computers. Watching Zoltar nod and yawn was so tiring!

The Great One smiled to Himself. He was sure he knew the Meaning of The Message.

Some of the theologians had indeed surmised the meaning of The Message.

It was not a letter nor a character, but a picture.

The message was a singled celled organism, The dominant lifeform of the galaxy.

The Spirit laughed. "BETWEEN YOU AND ME, DJERAN" He told the theologian as he knelt in front of his God a few days later.

"So it's a joke?"

"IF YOU LIKE."

What the Spirit did not tell him was he was such a thing, albeit on a grandiose scale.

-------------------------------------------------------

Zoltar sat down at the table in his cell; he now wore the grey habit of one of the more humble religious orders. (Most ecclesiastics wore blue of one shade or another)  
Zoltar had decided to do a penance to get out of his Masters way for a while; He went on religious retreat in a remote monastery. The Chosen One was quite enjoying himself, his days were spent in prayer and meditation, and his nights with a suitably austere girl. He was well out of everyone's way, including his narked sister, also the Spirit. (Who had not contacted him in weeks.)

Zoltar smiled and picked up a pen. He was going to write a religious book of his own. Not a hagiography like many Chosen had written, but his own interpretation of The Message.

He had no doubt it would be a heterodox book but somehow that pleased him.


End file.
